Monster.
One.
Before my ‘symptoms’ appeared I was just a normal girl. I was studying English literature in college much to the dismay of a lawyer father and a doctor mother. They expected a better career path for their only child apparently but I’ve loved books since I was a little kid. They refused to accept that this was their fault in the first place considering they were to ones who had taught me to read when I was four years old and never hesitated to buy me classic novels because they wanted their child to be educated. They encouraged me to read but I when I told them I wanted to study books it wasn’t good enough. They wanted another doctor or lawyer not even taking into account I’d never shown they slightest bit of interest in becoming either. Still, I did well in school; I had friends, a boyfriend, a car, my own apartment and I was truly happy once you take away the emotionally distant parents. I had my reading, my painting and my piano lessons and I was extremely thankful to be away from my parents so I still don’t understand where these feelings appeared from or why. A part of me kept screaming at me that I was becoming a zombie but thankfully logic and reasoning kicked in pretty soon after. You had to have died first before becoming a zombie; at least that’s what the few horror movies my boyfriend Jonah had forced me to watch told me. And I was pretty sure I hadn’t died. Plus, weren’t zombies supposed to be decomposing corpses with no brainpower? That definitely didn’t apply to me. I still had all other brain functioning but yet the urges were growing stronger.
It all started one night three months before I was put in here. I’d been pretty sick for a few weeks, just a normal flu but I was feeling much better so I decided to accept my friend Aimee’s invitation for a movie night at her house. The normal group was there: Aimee and her boyfriend Jake, Marie, Susie, Daniel, Ronnie and her girlfriend Deb, Jonah and me. Nothing unusual happened until around 10pm. Ronnie and Daniel were having the usual argument about how Ronnie was just going out with Deb to piss him off. They had gone out a few months beforehand and were getting pretty serious before Ronnie suddenly discovered she was a lesbian. It was pretty stupid for Aimee to have invited both; they’d been at each other’s throats every time they’d seen each other since the break up. I secretly agreed with Daniel; Ronnie had been known to pull similar stunts to try and mess with a guy’s head when she wasn’t getting her own way in the relationship but he still shouldn’t have brought it up while Deb was sitting in the same room. During the argument I was keeping out of it watching the exchange go back and forth when I found my attention drawn to Ronnie’s cheek. She’d flicked her long blonde hair out of her face and you could see the red flush in her cheeks from anger. Her skin looked exceptionally smooth and soft and for a moment I ached to reach out and stroke it. Then it hit me from nowhere, like a panic attack. The ache to stroke her cheek suddenly turned into something vicious. I ached to reach over and rip her cheek off. I longed to sink my teeth into her face and bite, to lap up her blood with my tongue and then swallow her flesh whole. Thankfully Jonah called me from the kitchen and my concentration broke. The thought passed but I felt sick to my stomach. Where had the thought come from? I’d never had a thought even remotely like that in the past. Even watching those zombie movies made me feel sick so why did I suddenly want to rip my friends face apart with my teeth? I needed to go home and lie down; I was obviously still sick. I quickly made my excuses and left but that night was only the beginning of these sick thoughts.
They grew worse over the coming weeks. Every time I’d see an exposed bit of skin I’d long to sink my teeth in to it and rip it off. I was becoming increasingly paranoid and I wouldn’t leave my house. I didn’t trust myself around other people, afraid that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself any longer. I couldn’t go to the doctor or tell my friends or family, they’d think I was crazy and lock me away. I saw only one way out. To kill myself before I turned into some sort of psycho cannibal. So, one night I took two boxes of painkillers, washed down with half a litre of vodka and hoped it would kill me. Unfortunately it didn’t and I ended up in a mental hospital anyway. They told me Jonah found me that night after breaking his way into my apartment to see me. He’d gotten sick of me ignoring his texts, emails and phone calls so he kicked my front door in. He’d always had a bit of a temper. When I wouldn’t wake up he panicked and called the paramedics and they brought me straight to the ER. When they realised what was in my stomach they knew instantly what had happened and had the paperwork all ready to ship me to the county mental hospital as soon as I was awake and stable enough. I didn’t wake up for a week. Apparently taking 48 painkillers puts you in some sort of coma. They got sick of waiting for me and shipped my unconscious body to the psych ward anyway.
It all started one night three months before I was put in here. I’d been pretty sick for a few weeks, just a normal flu but I was feeling much better so I decided to accept my friend Aimee’s invitation for a movie night at her house. The normal group was there: Aimee and her boyfriend Jake, Marie, Susie, Daniel, Ronnie and her girlfriend Deb, Jonah and me. Nothing unusual happened until around 10pm. Ronnie and Daniel were having the usual argument about how Ronnie was just going out with Deb to piss him off. They had gone out a few months beforehand and were getting pretty serious before Ronnie suddenly discovered she was a lesbian. It was pretty stupid for Aimee to have invited both; they’d been at each other’s throats every time they’d seen each other since the break up. I secretly agreed with Daniel; Ronnie had been known to pull similar stunts to try and mess with a guy’s head when she wasn’t getting her own way in the relationship but he still shouldn’t have brought it up while Deb was sitting in the same room. During the argument I was keeping out of it watching the exchange go back and forth when I found my attention drawn to Ronnie’s cheek. She’d flicked her long blonde hair out of her face and you could see the red flush in her cheeks from anger. Her skin looked exceptionally smooth and soft and for a moment I ached to reach out and stroke it. Then it hit me from nowhere, like a panic attack. The ache to stroke her cheek suddenly turned into something vicious. I ached to reach over and rip her cheek off. I longed to sink my teeth into her face and bite, to lap up her blood with my tongue and then swallow her flesh whole. Thankfully Jonah called me from the kitchen and my concentration broke. The thought passed but I felt sick to my stomach. Where had the thought come from? I’d never had a thought even remotely like that in the past. Even watching those zombie movies made me feel sick so why did I suddenly want to rip my friends face apart with my teeth? I needed to go home and lie down; I was obviously still sick. I quickly made my excuses and left but that night was only the beginning of these sick thoughts.
They grew worse over the coming weeks. Every time I’d see an exposed bit of skin I’d long to sink my teeth in to it and rip it off. I was becoming increasingly paranoid and I wouldn’t leave my house. I didn’t trust myself around other people, afraid that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself any longer. I couldn’t go to the doctor or tell my friends or family, they’d think I was crazy and lock me away. I saw only one way out. To kill myself before I turned into some sort of psycho cannibal. So, one night I took two boxes of painkillers, washed down with half a litre of vodka and hoped it would kill me. Unfortunately it didn’t and I ended up in a mental hospital anyway. They told me Jonah found me that night after breaking his way into my apartment to see me. He’d gotten sick of me ignoring his texts, emails and phone calls so he kicked my front door in. He’d always had a bit of a temper. When I wouldn’t wake up he panicked and called the paramedics and they brought me straight to the ER. When they realised what was in my stomach they knew instantly what had happened and had the paperwork all ready to ship me to the county mental hospital as soon as I was awake and stable enough. I didn’t wake up for a week. Apparently taking 48 painkillers puts you in some sort of coma. They got sick of waiting for me and shipped my unconscious body to the psych ward anyway.